Page 78 of Written By a Woman

Those fucking sweatpants and their thin material were going to be the death of me.

I immediately dropped my arms, one of them supporting my weight underneath me while the other wrapped itself around his waist and felt all the ridges and planes of his back. As soon as my hand started to lower more, towards the waistband of his sweatpants, his hips thrust against mine in a way that made me moan desperately.

“Of course,” Zaid spoke against my neck, remembering the conversation even though I had forgotten about it, “I’m always thinking about this, Signe.”

Oh god, the way he murmured my name against my skin.

I was a goner.

I threw my leg over both of his, allowing his hard length to rest against where I wanted him. One thrust against him like this and we were both moaning from the friction.

“Yes, yes,” I panted against his mouth, pulling myself up so that I could push him onto his back and straddle his hips. His eyes were half open, beautifully glazed, and when I rolled myself over his erection again, I was rewarded with the sight of Zaid’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hands gripped my hips so tightly that I was positive my skin might be a little bruised afterward.

“You’re so fucking hot, Signe,” Zaid moaned as I rolled my hips again, leaning down and pressing kisses along his neck and bearded jawline, “Goddamn.”

“Oh please,” I grinned against his short beard before I continued to speak against his skin, “As if you’re not one of the most attractive men I have ever met.” I captured his lips with mine again, my hands running over the planes of his chest and arms with greed as I angled my hips just right against him.

There was a very good chance that I would come from this alone.

“…I can’t…think of a clever response to that…” Zaid admitted before his tongue desperately traced the inside of my mouth, “You’re too distracting.” His hips were bucking underneath mine in time with the roll of my hips, and when I slid my hands underneath his shirt I melted into the touch. The feel of his hot skin, the planes of his abs and chest, the light dusting of hair across his pecs. It was too much. This man was unraveling me.

“Just to be clear, it’s not just your body, though,” I admitted in a whisper near his ear, nipping at his earlobe with my teeth and tugging the slightest bit, “I’m turned on by everything about you.” I was drunk on power, loving how Zaid was breathing and how his hands couldn’t find a place to hold still on my body. As if he was desperate to map me out, to feel everything I had to offer him. I eventually grabbed one of his wrists and guided his hand underneath my shirt, slowly dragging it up my side until I pulled his palm forward to wrap itself over the underside of my breast, his rough fingers tracing the edge of the bra cup.

As soon as his thumb found the stiff peak through the material, I admitted defeat. I was someone I didn’t recognize, using my hands to brace myself on his shoulders as I rubbed against his shaft in quick, determined strokes. His thumb encouraged me as his other hand wrapped itself around my hip to hold me against him. As if he was encouraging my movements on him.

We were both still fully, completely clothed.

I eventually sagged against his chest, my hands bracing themselves on his waist as I continued to roll my hips against him. I thought I caught myself sucking on his neck as I did, but I couldn’t quite tell. I was lost, desperate to reach the crest that was so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Signe?” Zaid murmured in my ear. His hand left my hip and tangled itself in my hair on the back of my head, holding me against his shoulder as his other hand kept up its ministrations under my shirt, even with it crushed between our chests.

“Yeah?” I was mostly confused by my actions. I couldn’t believe I was already so close, the edge barreling towards me at a rate I hadn’t experienced with a partner in quite a while.

Zaid groaned, barely flexing his own hips in time with mine, “Use me.”

His demanding tone caught me off guard in the best way, but the problem was I was not in the best physical shape like he was. After whatever amount of time I spent on top of him, supporting my own weight and dry humping like teenagers, I felt my muscles start to ache and my orgasm slowly, slowly start to slip away.

Zaid noticed the shift immediately, along with the desperate little whimper I made when I realized that I wasn’t going to cross that line.

“Fuck, fuck,” I was desperately trying to gain the friction again, but the muscles in my legs were starting to shake on either side of his hips.

Zaid grumbled something incoherent, and the next thing I knew, he flipped us again, so my back landed on the mattress. I barely had time to think before he yanked my shirt up, pulled the cup of my bra down, and lowered his head.

“Oh!” I gasped, my hips searching for his while my hands knotted themselves in his hair.

“That’s it,” Zaid spoke around the tip of my breast, his tongue gently teasing as his hand ran down the front of my bike shorts, “Just relax and let me help.”

I could not have possibly gotten any wetter.

“Please,” I whimpered like I wasn’t a grown woman capable of bringing myself to orgasm, “Yes, I need—” my words were cut off when his hand made its way into my bike shorts, into my panties, and brushed a finger against my core.

“Fuck, Signe,” Zaid groaned, shifting his focus over to my other breast and tasting me there too, “Say my name when you come.”

He traced my opening for just a moment, wetting his finger, before dragging it up and tracing small, tight circles against my clit.

“Yes,” I panted, feeling the muscles in my core starting to tighten after every circle his finger made.

“Say it,” Zaid demanded, his tongue starting to flick my nipple in time with his finger.

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